


A Light in the Fires

by The_Phantom_Prince



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hell, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:59:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Phantom_Prince/pseuds/The_Phantom_Prince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nearly forty years of searching, Castiel finally finds the still-brilliant soul of the Righteous Man.</p><p>“I’m going to bring you home.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light in the Fires

The instant that Castiel caught sight of it, he knew that he had finally found that for which he had been searching for nearly four decades. Then there it was, glowing like a beacon, in one of the most gruesome corners of hell that he had encountered thus far. Even beyond the disturbingly cloudy-grey eyes and under the countless layers of grime and blood and forty years of other tarnishments that he did not care to think upon for very long, Castiel could plainly see the soul, brilliantly bright, if battered and abused.

As Castiel approached, the broken shell of a former hunter turned to glance over his shoulder, momentarily forgetting about the poor damned soul that had been left at his mercy, or there lack of. In such a position, he did not look like a righteous man but Castiel was certain that he was no mistaken.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel confirmed, not really asking.

The torturer in question’s brow raised slightly as he responded, “Well, I haven’t heard that name an damn near ten years.” Castiel waited patiently for the Righteous Man to continue. As he waited, Dean’s eyes narrowed just a little and he looked at his visitor suspiciously. “You’re definitely the usual type that they send over to me,” he commented before adding, “and no way in hell are you a new coworker,” before chuckling darkly at the irony of his statement. “Who are you.”

Curiosity, Castiel noted, that’s what Dean Winchester was expressing right now; he was not attacking or becoming defensive as Castiel feared he might, at least not yet. Curiosity the angel could work with.

“Castiel,” he responded to the question simply.

The other’s cautious gaze shifted slightly to something that was more akin to a glare as he replied, “I don’t care about your name; fat lot of good that does me. I meant, what are you?”

“I’m the one who has been sent here to bring you home,” Castiel said, careful to avoid mention his angelic nature; revealing something like that to Dean, who was already far to close to following the path of becoming a demon, would jeopardize the mission. Even with just that, though, the Righteous Man’s glare darkened significantly.

“Get out,” he growled. “I don’t have anywhere to go home to.”

Castiel looked back at him quizzically. “I don’t understand. I assure you, though you may not have the corporeal home that you might be thinking of, things have not changed much in the realm of Earth since your death. In fact, your brother Samuel is still anxiously hoping to see you again,” he told Dean.

If Castiel had thought that the Righteous Man had been glaring darkly at him before, then he did not know what words could be used to describe the look that was being directed at him now. “You shut your goddamn mouth right now. It’s been nearly forty years. There’s no way Sam’s even still alive up there, much less weeping into his pillow for me,” Dean said angrily.

Ignoring the moment of blasphemy, Castiel responded, “For you down here, yes, but time has not passed the same for your brother on Earth.”

“Well, buddy,” Dean began with a scoff, “even is Sammy is still alive, that doesn’t change my situation much.” When Castiel looked at him with a confused gaze once again, he continued. “Maybe this has escaped you notice but we’re in hell. This isn’t exactly some extended vacation that I can just walk away and hitch a bus on home from,” Dean said, sounding more annoyed than anything now, as if this whole encounter was wasting his time.

“I don’t know where one would attempt to find a bus in a place like this and you are correct about not having the ability to walk out of hell but those are not the modes of transport that I will be using,” Castiel told him, praying that this conversation would move along faster; heaven had already waited on Castiel for forty years to find the Righteous Man and they would not be keen on being kept much longer.

“Oh yeah? And do I get any say in these ‘modes?’” Dean questioned. “Hell, do I get any say in all this at all?”

“No,” Castiel responded. “I don’t understand, Dean Winchester, I would have thought you eager to leave this place and return to your life on Earth,” Castiel commented, trying to comprehend why the hunter was so hesitant to leave hell.

‘Yeah, well, hate to break it to you, pal, but you haven’t exactly known me a long time to make that call,” Dean replied.

“I’ve known you for a very long time, Dean.”

For a moment, neither of them said a word, each just staring sharply at the other, waiting for a concession. When neither obliged, Dean was the first to speak.

“What if I say no?” Dean asked plainly.

“That’s not an option,” Castiel answered.

“And what are you going to do?” Dean provoked further.

Staring at him intently, Castiel gave a final reply, “I’m going to bring you home.” With that, he raised a hand and placed two fingers to the man’s forehead.

The moment Castiel made contact, he felt a rig of something that he could not describe. It was as though he could feel the rush of importance that this man held flooding his being. Everything within him shifted in that instance and the righteous man, who had always been of upmost importance to heaven, became of upmost importance to Castiel himself as well.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Castiel saw that Dean swayed on his feat for a several seconds before he began to fall downward. Reaching forward, Castiel caught him before he could fall face first into the muck and grime that permanently covered the floor of the room, one hand landing on Dean’s chest and the other gripping his bare shoulder where his shirt had been torn to shreds.

He felt the jolt that ran through the palm of his hand but ignored it as he maneuvered his body so that one arm was wrapped around Dean’s waist while the other was wrapped around his chest, keeping his firm grip on the man’s shoulder. Once Castiel was certain that the Righteous Man was secure in his embrace, he rose the both of them as swiftly as he could from the pit they were in and soared toward Earth.

As he pieced together the remains of Dean Winchester’s body that had been left in a makeshift coffin in Kansas, he removed the majority of the memories of his encounter of Dean, leaving behind only his name, before placing the soul securely back where it belonged.

As he departed, he called out to all of the angels, “Dean Winchester had been saved.”


End file.
